


and the world, it is my family

by orphan_account



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Actors, F/M, Family, Family Angst, Filming, Modern Era, also i can't believe i forgot to tag this but, family drama is a thing in every coco fic and one cannot escape it, go check their teacher!hector au out it's cool as heck, hector and imelda have a slow burn type of relationship, hector being all fatherly to miguel is everything i've ever wanted, inspired by scribblrhob's art on tumblr, lots of changes here and there, not everyone is related to one another though, slice of life-ish, spanish is also spoken but i the author am latino so i can get away with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Following the loss of someone he loved dearly, Héctor Rivera had decided to make a decision that would change his life forever: adopt a child.Years later, at a plaza, twelve year-old Miguel Rivera is given a chance of a lifetime. But starting a career comes with pros and cons—just like life itself comes with its own joys and woes.





	1. Twelve Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally different from my other works, but I came across scribblrhob's 'Teacher AU' recently and I kept thinking of a world where Hector and the rest of the (deceased) Riveras got to experience the modern life. So, I came up with this.
> 
> A lot of things have changed, but there are some elements kept in (especially in regards to family angst; because it's not a Coco fic if you can't throw in a bit of sorrow). However, in terms of relations, a lot has changed—and so have a lot of characters' surnames. I'll list them at the end notes of chapter two, though. 
> 
> Now without further ado, I hope some of you are able to enjoy this little story I've whipped up!

It was a cold night on November 2nd, 2004, in Mexico City. Almost everyone and their families stayed indoors—however, there were a significant amount of people at Plaza Garibaldi, all bundled up in sweaters as they listened to a group of musicians play a soft tune.

 

One of these musicians was twenty-five year-old Héctor Rivera. 

 

Héctor was what many people called "un alma pura." He was a passionate man, who loved music as much as he loved his mother, but he was also caring. During his school years, he helped his fellow students with lessons, often making it seem as though he was an honorary teacher himself. He was always quick to apologize when it came to accidents, even when it wasn't entirely his fault. Not to mention, he had a way with words when it came to writing songs. At age eleven, he was at the top in his music class, alongside another student named "Ernesto." Some of his younger peers often asked him to perform for them whenever the teacher would leave for a while, to which he simply complied. Nowadays, most of his peers looked upon him in a fond manner, though at times they'd all shake their heads at his antics.

 

However, it was not the cheering of his peers that had him set on becoming a musician, but rather, it was his mother's encouragement.

 

His mother was the first one to expose him to music—she’d sung him lullabies the moment he opened his eyes for the first time, taught him how to sing, took him to musicals when he was four up until he was seventeen, let him visit the plaza on weekends when there wasn’t any work to do at home; she even bought him his first guitar when he was eleven.

 

He still fondly remembered the words she’d said to him when she gave him the money: _“You are a talented boy, I can tell. I know that with this money, you will put your talent to good use. Play to your heart’s content, mijo.”_

 

Héctor didn’t know what he would do without his mother and her support. He certainly wouldn’t have gotten to this point in life—that was certain.

 

“ _Ay mi familia, oiga mi gente!_ ” the musicians sang, while he thought of his mother. The sixty-five year-old woman was at a nursing home.

 

(He remembered how he had told her he’d be back as soon as he’d finished singing at the plaza. He had then kissed her head and said, “Adiós, madre. Love you.”

 

He wondered if leaving her was the right choice.)

 

He snapped out of his thoughts as he felt someone elbow him near the ribcage. He hissed and looked at one of the men next to him, who shot a glare at him as soon as they made eye contact.

 

“Stop standing around and _sing_ ,” the man hissed.

 

Héctor nodded quickly, ignoring the pain near his ribs as he chimed in, “ _Canten a coro, let it be known!_ ”

 

Still, even as he sang along, he thought of his mother. She was old and frail, and many people around her age usually didn’t last more than a year. It was a miracle that she had managed to fight off death’s call for almost eleven months. But then again, throughout those months, he’d always been by her side—if not during the day, then at least by night, he would be there for her.

 

Thoughts of what could happen to his mother while he was still at the plaza made Héctor’s body twitch a little. Silently, he prayed that she would still be healthy as ever, smiling brightly when the time came to go back to the nursing home.

 

“ _Our love for each other will live on forever in every beat of my proud corazón!_ ”

 

The audience cheered loudly, clapping as the song ended.

 

Héctor took deep breaths, in and out, before he slowly began to walk away. He had to go and see her, make sure she was okay and—

 

“Señor Rivera!” he heard a woman shout. He looked ahead, and immediately recognized the woman as one of the members of the staff. She stopped as soon as she was standing only a few inches away from him. She panted, before the words left her mouth, “Señor Rivera, it’s your mother.”

 

“What about her?” In his mind, Héctor was pleading, begging that she wouldn’t be breaking _that_ type of news to him. It couldn’t have been that type of news, it just couldn’t have been.

 

“She’s in her bed. Her health’s gotten worse,” the woman began to explain, “we don’t know if—if she’ll last the entire night. We don’t even know if she’ll last more than an hour or two.”

 

Héctor’s heart sunk as soon as the words left the woman’s mouth. He remained silent for a few moments, soaking in the situation.

 

He then looked into the woman’s eyes and said in a soft, hushed tone, “Take me to her.”

 

* * *

 

In the past, there were nights where Héctor would stay awake, staring at the ceiling as he kept dreading the day when old age would claim his mother. Within the same night, he’d eventually go to sleep, with the knowledge that his mother was still at the nursing home, alive and well.

 

He never had a chance to mentally prepare himself for _this_.

 

Knots formed in his stomach as he stepped into the room. His mother was lying in bed, her grey hair all tangled up, scattering across the pillow. She had a blank expression on her face.

 

He slowly made his way over to her bedside, placing his guitar by her nightstand before getting down on his knees. “ _Mamá_ ,” he choked out.

 

The elderly woman turned her gaze towards him, slowly moving her head so that she could face him. A small smile made its way across her face as she laid her eyes on her son. “Héctor, mi hijo…”

 

“Lo siento mucho, Mamá,” he whispered, his voice shaking a little as tears stung his eyes. He placed his hand on hers, rubbing it a little. “I should’ve never left—”

 

“Shhh,” she hushed him. “You wanted to give a song to the world. I understand.”

 

“I should’ve been here for you, though,” Héctor protested. “Maybe then, this wouldn’t be—”

 

“Do not take the blame for something that isn’t your fault,” his mother said, narrowing her eyes as she grabbed his hand, placing her other hand over it. “This was bound to happen one day. These things are just inevitable—there’s nothing anyone can do to prevent them.”

 

Héctor bit his lip for a moment, before he shook his head. “You were always there for me, supporting me—you’re the reason I’m where I am now in life. I love you, Mamá.” His voice was now hoarse as he spoke. His throat ached, but he wouldn’t remain silent. Not when he barely had more than a night with his mother.

 

“And I love you, too, mi hijo,” the elderly woman replied. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t have been with you longer. Just know that…” she trailed off for a moment, before taking a deep breath in. “…know that I love you, and will always support you, even in death.” She moved her hand to his cheek, cupping his face. “And one last thing: remember that you won’t be alone, even after I’m gone. There will always be someone out there, whether you find them, or they find you.”

 

He held onto her hand, and watched as her chest moved as she took a few more breaths, before finally, her eyes slowly began to close. Her hands went limp, as she became still—stiff as a door.

 

He closed his eyes, shedding a few tears. He looked back at his guitar, before looking at his mother’s body.

 

He now had an idea of how his mother must’ve felt when his father left her when he was only one month-old. Lonely, confused, and aching.

 

But now, his only company was a guitar. Other than that, he had _nothing_. Nothing but memories of his old life.

 

* * *

 

When the time for the funeral came, Héctor helped lower his mother’s casket into the ground. Throughout the entire service, he hadn’t spoken a word because he knew that if he did, he would turn into nothing but a sobbing mess. So he had remained silent, and as soon as the casket was buried, he left for his house.

 

The first few weeks without his mother were hard. He kept finding himself visiting the nursing home despite the fact that he knew that her room was empty by now, her things having been moved out a long time ago—now residing near her place on the family ofrenda. Still, that didn’t stop him from deluding himself into thinking that maybe, her death had been just a nightmare of his. Seeing her empty room would immediately snap him back to his senses—back to the harsh reality that she was gone, and that she’d never come back.

 

(During the nights, he would remember every moment he’d spent with her, and think of the moments he could’ve spent with her if she had lived for just a little longer.)

 

Eventually, though, near the end of the month, he found himself thinking about what her last words: _“There will always be someone out there, whether you find them, or they find you.”_

He wondered what she had meant by ‘whether you find them.’ What could that possibly mean? He then began to think of the possible implications. Did she mean searching for a lover, or did she mean finding a new friend—or even, possibly, taking in an orphan?

 

Then, he started to think about adoption. It would be a huge decision to make, and it most certainly wouldn’t be an easy one.

 

However, he was tired of the feeling of loneliness. The rest of his family was either dead, or they were complete strangers to him. Besides, there were children who weren’t as fortunate to grow up in a stable home, let alone be born into nice, comfortable household.

 

The thought of giving a child the same love his mother had given him made him feel warm inside.

 

And so, he came to a decision.

 

On November 27th, he paid a visit to an orphanage. He took a good look around, trying to figure out which child he would adopt. However, something soon caught his attention: the sounds of an infant’s coos.

 

He looked around the room, and soon spotted a small cradle. Inside the cradle was a small, baby boy, no older than a few weeks.

 

“What is his name?” Héctor asked a worker nearby.

 

“His name is Miguel. His grandmother left him here a week ago,” they explained. “She said that she couldn’t take care of him, and that his parents had passed away in an accident only a few days after he was born. So, we’ve given him a temporary home here, until someone decides to take him in.”

 

Héctor looked back at the baby, shocked at what he’d just heard. Only a few weeks old, and he had already experienced losing family.

 

He slowly picked Miguel up, smiling softly as the baby giggled and touched his goatee. He chuckled as the baby soon grabbed it, tugging it a little. “Precious little chamaco,” Héctor remarked, nuzzling the baby’s nose. “I promise you, Miguel, that I will take good care of you.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take too long to fill out the papers and sort a few things out so that there’d be a crib in the room Héctor had set up before midnight arrived.

 

When they entered the house, Miguel squirmed in his adoptive father’s arms as he spotted a guitar on the couch. He held his tiny hands out, trying to grab the instrument but to no avail.

 

Héctor grinned. “Ah, so you want to hear some music, hmm?”

 

Miguel gurgled in response, still holding his hands out.

 

Héctor went over to the couch and sat down next to the guitar. He placed Miguel in the crook of his right arm, so that he was still able to hold the infant as he grabbed his guitar. Once he had it, Héctor looked at his adoptive son, before he plucked one of the guitar’s strings.

 

“ _Remember me, though I have to say goodbye_ ,” he sang softly. “ _Remember me; don’t let it make you cry. For even if I’m far away, I hold you in my heart. I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart_ …”

 

Miguel babbled as he clapped his hands, causing Héctor’s grin to widen a bit.

 

They had both experienced their own losses—but, in the process, they had gained something as well: a new family, for they had found each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any thoughts so far? Let me know what you think. :)
> 
> And also, happy (early) New Year, everyone! I hope you all have a great day tomorrow.


	2. Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in this chapter, we meet Imelda. It was interesting to write out how Hector and Imelda would meet in this type of AU, and I think the results are pretty good.

Before he had adopted his son, Héctor used to rely on an alarm clock to wake him up in the morning. But when Miguel came along, he’d only use the clock to wake him up from naps—otherwise, his chamaco did a good job waking him up.

 

“Papá!” he heard the boy call his name, before he felt something nudge his arm. “Papá, get up!”

 

“It’s Saturday morning. Just a few more minutes…” Héctor mumbled, rolling on his other side. He tried closing his eyes again, only for them to open almost immediately as the bed began to move. He looked at the edge of the bed, noticing that Miguel was now sitting on his knees. Héctor rolled his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. “Fine, you win, mijo.” He then grinned a little as he wrapped an arm around his son, bringing him closer so he could ruffle his hair.

 

Miguel laughed, before pushing his father’s hands away from his hair. He then hopped off the bed and rushed out the room, down the stairs.

 

Héctor smiled and shook his head, before he looked at the closet. He walked towards it, and pulled out casual clothes. After a quick change, he slipped on his shoes and headed downstairs, where he saw his son sitting at the breakfast table.

 

When he approached the refrigerator, he heard Miguel ask, “So, are we going to the plaza today, by any chance?”

 

(Héctor had been taking Miguel to the plaza with him ever since he’d adopted the boy. And of course, little Miguel grew to love the plaza – with all of the music, who wouldn’t love it there?

 

But when school began, the boy visited less and less, having spent the first half of the day doing schoolwork, while the rest was spent with his father.

 

So, a deal was made. On the weekends, Héctor would take his chamaco to the plaza for a fun visit.)

 

Héctor turned to face the twelve-year old. “Well, let’s see… did you try your best in music class yesterday?” he asked, trying to hide a grin.

 

“Yes,” Miguel answered, nodding. “I got good grades and everything – so, can we _please_ go to the plaza?”

 

Héctor shrugged. “Then I don’t see why not.”

 

A huge smile made its way across Miguel’s face. The boy quickly got out of his seat and hugged his father’s legs. “Gracias, Papá.”

 

Héctor patted the boy’s head. “De nada, mijo.” He turned back to the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of eggs before heading to the stove. “But before we head out, let’s eat first – after all, you can’t have fun on an empty stomach!”

 

* * *

 

When breakfast was over, both father and son didn’t hesitate to put their coats on, grab their guitars and head out the door as quick as possible.

 

“Papá, I have a question,” Miguel said as he walked alongside his father.

 

“Yes, what is it, mijo?” Héctor looked at the boy.

 

“Can Dante join us at the plaza?” Just as the words had left the boy’s mouth, a stray xolo ran from an alleyway to him, running in between his legs before jumping up and down. Miguel laughed and patted the stray’s head.

 

Héctor gave his son a blank stare. “A dog. Joining a family in singing at a plaza.”

 

“I mean like… maybe he'd be a good audience?” Miguel suggested.

 

“…” Héctor stared at Dante for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

 

“Please, Papá?” Miguel pleaded, giving him the puppy eyes.

 

Héctor rubbed the tip of his nose as he let out a loud sigh. He always fell for the puppy eyes each every time – but he couldn’t help it, the kid was too pure. While he didn’t have most of the features he had back when he was an infant, he still had those big, brown eyes.

 

Brown eyes that Héctor couldn’t find himself saying no to. “Fine. But if he misbehaves, it’s ‘adios, perrito.’”

 

"You hear that, Dante?" Miguel looked down at the dog. "You'd better behave."

 

The xolo simply barked in response, before running along as the father and son continued down their path.

 

When they got to the plaza, Miguel awed at the sight – dozens of people were there: mariachis, guitarists, bands, families…it looked as though almost half of the town was there, but then again, Saturdays were the busiest of days. Still, knowing this didn't stop Miguel from taking in all of his surroundings. The boy looked around, and found an empty spot on a bench. With one hand, he gripped his guitar, and with the other, he tugged his father's sleeves. "Papá, look! Over there!" he said, pointing to the spot.

 

Héctor looked at the bench, then back at the boy. "Ah, perfecto."

 

They went over and sat down on the bench. Héctor turned to Miguel and asked, "So, what song should we play?"

 

"'Remember me'?" Miguel suggested.

 

Héctor smiled. Of course the boy would pick the song he'd sung to him ever since he was a baby. When the boy said his first words, he had attempted to teach him how to sing the song – and it worked. It was their song – a reminder of how after the lowest point of his life, he found happiness once more, in Miguel.

 

(Sometimes, Héctor looked back on everything, and thought of how he'd probably be a mess if he hadn't adopted Miguel.

 

He loved his boy, with all of his heart and soul.)

 

“Alright, mijo.” The man nodded. He waited for the boy to start, before he, too, started to strum the strings of his guitar.

 

“ _Remember me, though I have to say goodbye_ ,” Miguel sang slowly. “ _Remember me; don’t let it make you cry_ …”

 

“ _For even if I’m far away, I hold you in my heart_ ,” Héctor continued from where his son left off, “ _I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart_.”

 

Miguel smiled at his father. “ _Remember me, though I have to travel far_. _Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar_.”

 

“ _Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be_ ,” the two sang in unison, “ _until you’re in my arms again, remember me_ …”

 

Dante let out a loud howl, causing his tongue to wrap around his muzzle.

 

Miguel looked at the stray and grinned as he patted the dog’s head. “See, Papá? I told you.”

 

“So you did, chamaco,” Héctor replied, looking at Dante. Maybe having a stray around had some positives to it after all.

 

Dante jumped up a little, licking Miguel’s face, causing the boy to laugh and say, “Quit it, Dante!”

 

In that moment, everything seemed to be going perfectly.

 

And then that moment was over, in less than a minute.

 

Dante stopped for a moment, sniffing the air.

 

“What is it, Dante?” Miguel asked, tilting his head in confusion.

 

The dog continued to sniff around until he stopped once more, before he began to bark loudly. He then ran off, much to Miguel and Héctor’s surprise.

 

“Or maybe not,” Héctor muttered to himself, shaking his head.

 

“Dante, where are you going?!” Miguel cried out as he got up, chasing after the dog.

 

Dante continued to run until he finally spotted a cat, near a table. He skid to a stop and began to bark at the cat – though, it wasn’t in a harsh manner. It was in a more ‘hey, I just met you and I love you’ type of manner.

 

The cat hissed at him, and lifted a paw, unsheathing its claws as if it were saying, ‘get away from me or else.’

 

Dante, however, did not pay any mind to the cat’s warning. He continued to bark at it, taking a few steps forward.

 

Then, the cat let out a louder hiss and tried clawing at the dog, only for Dante to back away before he could take the blow.

 

“Pepita!” a woman’s voice cried out. Both the cat and the dog turned their gaze to a thirty-seven year-old woman. Her hair was braided, tied into a lower bun, while she wore a purple shirt with brown pants. She picked up the cat and held it close to her, checking to see if there were any injuries before she looked down at Dante. “Stay away from her, demonio perro!”

 

Dante tilted his head. He barked again, trying to jump up – but before he could do so, Miguel caught up to him and grabbed him.

 

“I’m sorry, señora,” the twelve year-old said as he looked at the woman. “It’s just that Dante gets a little excited sometimes—”

 

“That dog of yours needs to be properly trained!” she interrupted him. “I demand to speak to your guardian and give him a piece of my mind—”

 

“But Dante’s not—”

 

 

“Dios mio, mijo,” Héctor said, walking up to Miguel. “What is going on?”

 

“Your _devil dog_ was antagonizing my cat!” the woman responded, raising her voice, anger seeping from her tone. “What kind of guardian are you, letting your boy’s dog run wild like that—with no leash or even a collar?”

 

“Dante not our dog, though,” Héctor replied, his voice calm – though on the inside, his heart was pounding rapidly. Good lord, was this woman terrifying when she raised her voice. “He’s just a stray from the streets.”

 

“Yeah.” Miguel nodded. “He’s been following me around for a while, so I gave him a name.”

 

“So, let me get this straight…” With one hand, the woman rubbed her temples. “You let your son play with a stray dog, name it, and not once did it cross your mind to maybe get a collar at the very least? Or even teach it basic commands?”

 

“…no,” Héctor admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not really.”

 

The woman let out a loud sigh as she rolled her eyes. “ _Of course_ you didn’t.”

 

“Listen, err…” Héctor trailed off for a moment. “What is your name?”

 

“Imelda,” she stated simply.

 

“Listen, Imelda – I am terribly sorry for the troubles we’ve caused you,” he apologized. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” For a moment, he stopped to think of what he could do. Then, he had an idea. “How about I treat you to dinner at my place tomorrow night?”

 

Imelda looked skeptical. “I don’t know…”

 

“I promise, it’ll be peaceful – just you and me,” Héctor assured her. He held out a hand, as if he were expecting her to shake it. “So, what do you say?”

 

“Fine,” Imelda muttered, placing her hand within his, shaking it slowly. “But if you pull any tricks, there will be shoes flying.”

 

An image flashed through Héctor’s mind as he registered those words. _La Chancla_. He felt like shuddering at the very thought, but he kept himself cool. “No tricks.”

 

Miguel looked back and forth between the two, coming to the conclusion that said ‘dinner’ was really just a date. Internally, he gagged a little. He never quite understood romance – in his perspective, love was gross.

 

Héctor flashed a grin at Imelda before pulling his hand away. “So, Imelda… I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose you will,” she responded.

 

Héctor then grabbed Miguel’s hand as they began to walk back home. On the way home, Miguel asked, “When you said dinner, did you mean date?”

 

Héctor immediately shook his head. “No, no – of course not! It’s just a simple dinner between two…” He stumbled over his words for a moment, as he felt a strange sensation in his chest. “…acquaintances.”

 

“Oh, good, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do if that woman ended up becoming my Mamá,” Miguel laughed, while Dante ran between his legs.

 

“Nah.” Héctor waved his hand dismissively. “Once a single father, always a single father – it’s always going to be just the two of us, chamaco.”

 

“Good.” Miguel smiled at him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I'd list the characters' surnames at the end of this chapter, and so I shall keep my word:
> 
> Hector and Miguel = Rivera  
> Imelda, Oscar and Felipe = Ubach ~~(yes, I gave Imelda her actress' last name. sue me)~~  
>  Coco, Julio, Elena and Franco = Rodriguez  
> Enrique, Luisa, Berto and Carmen (along with the other Rivera kids) = Chavez  
> Rosita = Fernandez  
> Victoria = Alvarez

**Author's Note:**

> 2/1/18 edit: this work is now discontinued. if you really want to know how it would've all gone done, then you can ask and i'll be happy to answer - but otherwise, it's been discontinued due to lack of motivation, work and just. personal reasons in general.


End file.
